Love Me the Way I Love You

Mi abuelito has always been a great inspiration for me and large part of my childhood, especially the years when I grew up in Colombia. This poem is a glance through the thick glass of my grandather's past and the struggle I felt (and still feel today) to truly connect to him, and my desire to tell him love me the way I love you.

Abuelito I’m coming over. Soon I’ll be there, when it’s colder. I’ll take the winding paths through the airport, Twisted like the roads I cross para verte.

La forma en que el sol se cae a las seis, And the moon rising like a lazy sun remind me of times when I could sleep lentamente on my hammock Where the sobrecogimiento gently warmed my heart. Love me the way I love you.

A veces me pregunto cómo te sentiste When eleven of your blood were killed in vain.Tu mamá in agony, And tu papá dead.Y la Guerrilla walking over our land, Burning your home, Stomping on la sangre that beats inside of you That beats inside of me. Love me the way I love you.

Estabas solo The emptiness you felt having no compare.Mamá en el otro pueblo, working hard to pay The family that kept you alone in the next town, Just so you could go to school everyday. I would take your pain any day. Love me the way I love you.

Corre, Cuarenta kilómetros everyday. No drink and no food, Just you, The mountains The air And the grey of the sky.Siente the clouds through your blond hair.